


Creep

by astoriaphan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 02:06:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6310834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astoriaphan/pseuds/astoriaphan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan is keeping a journal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creep

_‘You’re a lilac in a field of lily’s’ he would say, the best kind of high was from his touch. Sitting on a frostbitten roof, Radiohead playing from an open bedroom window, even though I preferred Arctic Monkeys. He didn’t smoke, his drug was music. I don’t care what he thinks, as long as it’s about me. That self-indulgent serial line, playing through my head with every trace of a belt eyelet. He could close a car door while touching me all over, I was always kind of impressed. But I’m more impressionable than a memory foam mattress. We didn’t have a picket fence romance, but it was better than all of the one’s our age. Cyrano de Bergerac can suck his cock, that’s what he said in his sleep. He has the fingers of a roses’ stem, but his lips taste like the petals. Beethoven couldn’t write anything that sounded like his voice, perfect undertones of north. Manic pixie dream boy, is what you would call it. But dreams are for when you sleep, and I have him even when I’m awake._

_d.h._

 

**2010**

It’s Saturday. Saturday is a field day, at least for us. Not school terminology, a literal field day. I roll out of bed, sitting on the cold floor for a while, staring at the outside through my thin curtains. Any minute now, he would appear in my room. I get up, tepidly searching for something to cover my bare chest. Settling on a black Muse shirt, I sit on my flat bed. This is how it goes, I get ready and he comes to get me before my parents can suspect a thing. I hear a knock on my window pane, a small smile creeps it’s way to my mouth, crawling over to the window, I open it and see him. He smiles at me and I grin back in return

 

_When you said you loved me, did you mean it? Did you want it to be real or did you just love the idea of who you thought I was? Needing time to find yourself. No spacers are going to tear you away from your own body, and no tattoo is going to make you feel at home in your skin. No dye is going to wash out your true colour, you need to learn this. Wheat tickles your toes, the gray sky makes it look like an independent film, Saturday’s wasted on what we didn’t know would be yesterday. Shaker, Shaker. I compared you to a summer’s day, waspy and dry. You took the honey out of my smile, and now you’re trying to give it back. Forgetting my artificial sweetener, you know, the one you disapproved of._

_d.h._

 

**2012**

The stars stared at me. It’s my 18th birthday. His hand was warm in mine. I turn to see he was already looking at me, hair so red it reminded me of the crescent sunset over the hill in our hometown. He smiled at me, it lit up my hollowed hallways,

‘I love you, always.’ He said, I connected his freckles, making a constellation. Lips press against mine and I’m drowning in the Atlantic Ocean. My shirt clings to my chest as it’s pressed into his crumpled leather coat.

His eyelashes cover his spectral blue eyes, casting shadows down his face. A catalyst. Field days were the only tea I ever needed

 

_His Bon Iver esque singing makes me shiver, but it’s the middle of July. He holds my cheeks, softly as if caressing a newborn child.  His eyes are a flickering candle, moving with uncertainty. OK Computer plays as if it were our theme music, his lipstick gets caught on the collar of my shirt. I wondered if mum would notice that. Pen ink was scrawled on his knuckles with a trace of rusty blood, his collarbones are handlebars. I climb him like a playset, he holds me all the way. Heavy breath on my neck._

_d.h._

**2014**

Something is wrong, he hasn’t spoken to me for some time now. I creep into his room, we moved in together last week, he was nowhere to be seen. Where is he? I stalk into the kitchen and spot a note on the countertop, the one that he had done grown up things to me on. It had his writing on it. His writing. It made me cold all over. I read it, then read it again. He can’t be. He’s gone

 

_I feel like a house for rent. Taking in someone new everyday. Open house. My raspberry boy, wonderstruck daydream has ended. Maybe it was a dream, maybe I had just imagined it all. He told me he loved me. If he loved me…why did he leave? So many questions that I ask myself, but my head doesn’t seem to have many answers tonight, or last night, or any night. No night’s are the same without him. Hearing somebody breath the same way is a trigger. Trigger, appealing?_

_d.h._

**2015**

I can’t bear be alone anymore, he made me feel so perfect only to ruin everything. He only built me up, merely to watch me fall. Therapy is not tolerable, and I have to leave the flat soon. I can’t afford it without him. I can’t afford anything without him. Crumpled up notes I wanted to send him, but never enough time to do it. Where is he? I’ve tried to die, but it’s too much effort

 

_I forgot his name last night, it sounds like pills. My new high school affair._

_d.h._

 

**2016**

He’s back.


End file.
